Archive of Our Own

James watches Sirius flutter around their friends, a cup of Firewhiskey perched between two fingers, a light flush decorating his high cheekbones. Pretty, he thinks suddenly, and straightens haphazardly in the armchair he’s draped across. His collar feels too tight around his skin, masking the blush of his cheeks behind another swig of his own cup. It burns, filters, and bubbles in that same familiar way, yet his gaze locks on the floor. 

This was becoming a common thought recently, which was daunting. Lily Evans was finally giving him the time of day, yet James’ gaze kept drifting. He supposes this was a disaster in its own making. Sirius Black’s hesitant approval when James hugged him their first meeting, Sirius meeting his gaze when the sorting hat shouted Gryffindor even amongst sweltering silence and deafening disapproval, Sirius being his first kiss, Sirius underneath him the night they third time they had Firewhiskey alone, silver eyes blown as he clutched the back of James’ neck, demanding harder, hard-fuck, Jay.

Perhaps it wasn’t just him. James had noticed Remus’ lingering gaze as Sirius grew and even all the magic in the world couldn’t stop how stunning Sirius Black had become. He had the chest he wanted now, ramped up his personality to something so aggressive and unapologetic that it made James feel faint. He loved watching his best friend come into his own, but damn, if it didn’t make his heart race in a way no one else ever had. James supposes this could be that Sirius was his first in almost everything.

First kiss.

First hand job.

First blow job.

First… Jame’s mind shudders, remembering the feel of Sirius’ legs around his waist, his hands in his hair, how he panted into his mouth with a whimper and a whine and no one at Hogwarts would believe that Sirius Black could be soft, but James Potter. Loud, ostentatious, anything but what his mother wanted her oldest child to be, with a wicked wand and a dark sense of humor. James finds his gaze drifting back even as Lily plops down beside him. She smells incredible, like caramel and lemons and a zesty spark of life, but he doesn’t look her way until she lays a gentle hand on his forearm, smile like the sun. 

“Pleased by your win, Potter?”

James has to take a moment to remember that this party was for winning the Cup. He manages, “The team worked really hard.”

3am rises, disgruntled teens who’d rather be anywhere else, Marlene McKinnon hanging off Sirius’ shoulder, delusional but pleased to be involved, and Sirius’ earnest gaze locked on James’ face despite the displeased pull of his mouth. If Lily’s smile was the sun, Sirius was an embodiment of the name he took for himself; sparkling, brilliant, and scattered like a constellation. But what star could rival the sun? James never said, would never say, but as Lily grew closer to what he wanted, Sirius drew back, accepting and permissive like every tumble in their dorm meant nothing.

No, James thinks, watching Sirius’ too wide smile, how his eye darts their way before locking back on Peter and Mary with a precision that seemed too incidental to be casual. He realizes he’s watched this person longer than he has anyone, watched the hesitant personality standing in their dorm in a pleated skirt with McGonagall standing at his side, hands opening and closing on his trunk, and when Peter said, “Oh, you’re-”, Sirius had cut him off, eyes blazing, “Sirius. Sirius Black.”

Walburga Black had, of course, been furious. 

McGonagall held firm. Orion Black agreed, as did Regulus, despite the growing frost between them, but James assumes something else was at work here when Heir Black pinned him against the wall during Regulus’ second day of being at Hogwarts with a wand to James’ throat and a threat that lingered like truce. 

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Lily’s voice brings him back.

Yeah, James thinks but… can’t say, dragging his gaze away to stare into the murky liquid of his cup. He swallows, forcing himself to look at her, smile brittle and awkward and everything he never could be. “Having a good time?”

Lily studies him, hair braided behind her ears in a way that makes his chest tight. “Why not pursue it?”

James blinks. “I’ve been trying. Since I first met you-”

“Sirius.” Lily’s smile is kind.

James scrambles, “I’m not-We’re not- Ah. No.”

Lily cocks an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Because what could I offer him, James thinks but doesn’t say. Sirius had been to Potter Manor, for Yule, Samhain, to just sit around and watch birds with his father, to bake with his mother and bicker with Mipsy over who made the best flower crown. And at the ends of these visits, he’d sneak into James’ room, curl into his side with a small, canine huff of contentment, face in the hollow of James’ neck and demand a story. 

It could be wonderful, could be so easy to slip beyond the line they’ve been blurring since 12.

What could a Potter offer a Black? Not just any Black but the eldest? Someone born to solely be married away because even if Sirius was their finest asset, his biology wasn’t suitable for an heir. Which meant he was born to be a commodity, a bargaining chip, but James doesn’t think Sirius would take that barbed crown if he could.

James wanted to steal him away.

Hold him close.

Hold him tight and never let go. 

James shifts in his seat, feeling suddenly small, and the thin string that’s been tied around his wrist since he was 11 seems to burn along his skin. A small charm lies against his wrist, a sun split neatly in half. The other half laid hidden beneath Sirius’ shirt, on a simple silver chain that dangled next to the silver face of a lion. 

Are you a coward, Potter?

James forces out a breath, heart racing.

“Another drink?” He asks, pushing to his feet without waiting for her answer. Lily’s gaze lingers on his back, Sirius’ laugh a knob in his spine. His hands shake on the ladle despite the cheerful smile he gives Gideon, who leers at him, eyes darting between him and Lily, who remained sitting. 

“Working the room, huh, Potter?” Gideon laughs, waving his twin away when he attempts to steal James’ drink. They’d both be graduating soon, in the next month, and James finds his courage in that earnest gaze. Gideon would set him straight, always set him straight, which is likely why they got on so well. Oldest twin, the Prewett heir, and notably, Sirius’ favorite, distantly related cousin. 

Fabian hates me, James remembers sulking.

Sirius merely glanced at him, clapped him on the shoulder and said Does he?

The next day, Gideon Prewett was on him like herald from hell, his younger brother’s ear pinched between his fingers. That was Sirius, addressing James’ problems, his concerns, his…

Are you a coward, Potter?

“Can I talk to you?” James blurts out.

Gideon studies him quietly. His eyes don’t move to Lily, instead shifting directly to where Sirius is laughing, head thrown back, and then resettles on James, upper lip beginning to curl. 

“Set me straight?” James’ voice cracks. It’s almost a plea.

Gideon’s eyebrows shoot up, snatches his brother by the collar, and slams him before the punch bowl. He jabs a finger into Fabian’s chest, “You stand here. Drink, but no second years and below, get me?”

“Yes, brother.” Fabian chirps, cheeks deeply flushed.

Gideon appears suffering but snags James by the forearm, guiding him away from the rowdy common room. They duck up the stairs, past couples melding together, others with their heads stuck out the window and cigarettes between their lips. Gideon, unceremoniously, shoves James into his dorm room with a look.

James flounders uncharacteristically and blurts out, “His parents want to marry him off.”

Gideon doesn’t seem to need context, nodding in that solemn, older student way, arms tight across his chest. “I’ve heard.”

“You have?” 

“Blacks intersected with Prewett ages ago.” Gideon waves a hand. “It’s all auntie wants to talk about.” He shrugs. “Guess I get it. Sirius is exceptional. Loads of houses want him. Hell, I almost thought about asking just so we could divorce quietly later but Walburga was clever about it. My betrothal papers had already been signed. I can’t go against it without inciting a blood feud from Greengrass and grandma would gut me like a fish.”

“You have? You.. You were?”

Gideon shrugs, “What? I love my idiot, wild, little cousin. He’s a breath of fresh air from that damn house. Granted, I do enjoy Reg.”

“Why?” James manages.

Gideon stares at him as though he were a particularly stupid animal, “Why wouldn’t I?”

James blinks, shocked. His mind flickers, remembering a conversation he had with baby Black. Regulus Black had stopped them on their way to Potions, Sirius hanging off James’ shoulder. The brothers’ eyes met, silver to gray, and Sirius stiffened against him in a way that seemed small, mouth warbling like it didn’t know where to put itself. There had been a conversation there, quiet, almost imperceptible, but James Potter had watched Sirius Black for as long as he could remember.

Sirius pulled away, despite the discomfort on his face. He glanced at James, then Regulus, eyes dimming, and Regulus flicked his fingers in a way that didn’t make sense beyond them. Sirius’ shoulders slumped from where they sat hunched, and he conceded in a way that made James bristle. 

Regulus Black was smaller than Sirius, but the way he commanded attention, those eerie eyes blazing, was every inch of the House of Black’s future. Sirius would be married with or without James’ consideration, but Regulus seemed displeased, mouth thinning just like his brother’s. Are you a coward, Potter?

The conversation sat with him, unsettling, despairing, because could he stand there, watching Sirius being forced into a- 

“You gonna do something about it?” Gideon asks, curt.

“I’m just a Potter.” James manages.

Gideon scoffs, “What a weak excuse.”

James stares at him, this person he considered a mentor, and lets the words wash over him like sticky film. His hands shake, “You’re right.”

Gideon regards him, “I’ve watched you two since you got here. Frankly, Evans didn’t make much sense to me. I’ve watched you lower yourself to fit into her group. I’m not for the pureblood crock of shit, but I notice a lot. You concede. You bend. You do none of those things with Siri and now, your inaction has led to him bending. Though, this is, I guess, his own choice.”

James opens his mouth, to argue, maybe plea, then clamps it shut when Gideon’s expression turns pitying. 

“Are you a coward, Potter?” Gideon asks, blunt, and it hits like such a slap that James gapes, Regulus’ words ricocheting in his mind like a bomb. “Wanna bed a Black but never considered owning one? You’d have his loyalty. You already do. Many would kill for that.” He snorts, “My grandfather did kill for that.”

“He did?” James asks, but his voice is far, far away. He knew he had such things, gained it so easily with a hug and a smile and consistency. Sirius didn’t give any part of himself up easily despite how eager he was for approval, for acceptance. It took nearly a year for Sirius to start treating Remus as a friend, even longer for him to accept Peter; constantly looking to James for direction like he could see his own prejudice ringing amongst their group. 

Gideon nods, “Yup. So let me ask you again, are you a coward, Potter?”

“No.”

“Then why are you acting like one?”

“I’m scared.” James admits. He couldn’t possibly be strong enough to go against such a family, to demand Sirius for himself. 

“So you’re just going with what’s easy?” Gideon hums, pitying. 

Coward, James’ mind hisses, and he can’t help but agree. His mind rings with Regulus Black’s parting words the last time they interacted I won’t deny him you. Neither would my father. But such weakness should be culled. James’ shoulder slump. He whispers, “You’re right.”

“Fuck, kid. I know that.” Gideon laughs darkly. 

Sirius gave him everything, willingly, without asking for anything in return beyond his existence and… James can’t imagine a life without Sirius Black at his side, eternally, forever, his dog. He doesn’t want to share. It’s such a sudden, throbbing thought that he feels faint. 

“Orion won’t deny you, Potter.” Gideon’s voice turns soft. “Sirius is his little favorite after all. How do you think Walburga hasn’t noticed your…interest? His future head of house won’t either. Oh,” He snaps his fingers. “Curious conversation I had with Heir Black recently. He asked if I’d help bury you.”

James stares at him, eyes owlish. 

Gideon grins, sharp, “We all have our favorites, Potter. Be grateful we’re willing to share them.”

James’ chest stutters, shoulders lifting, and he snatches Gideon’s door open without a glance back. The low laugh that follows clings to him like armor. 

He finds Sirius perched on the low table they transfigured from an extra couch, hair spilling out his bun in a mess, smile wide from whatever Remus has said, Marlene pressed to Sirius’ back like a leech. She notices him first, blue eyes lifting in assessment before a smirk spreads across her face. Finally, it says. Fucking finally, Marlene’s smile grows when James comes to stand beside them but he only notices how Sirius’ face was already turning towards him, eyes crinkling in the corners, the symmetrical perfection of his features only broken by the soft dimple in his right cheek.

“Air?” James tries for casual and seems to succeed to everyone but Marlene, who watches him closely, and Sirius.

Sirius rises easily, grumbling when Marlene snatches his cup with a leer. He flicks her on the forehead, plucks Remus’ discarded pack of cigarettes despite Moony’s whine of outrage, and trails after James. He hums happily as they walk, clearly tipsy, and doesn’t even seem to care when James drags him out the common room. James leads them through hidden passages, past sleeping portraits, and Sirius follows, always follows, unbothered, unquestioning. He makes a quiet noise when James jimmies a familiar window on the seventh floor that they managed to infiltrate during their second year.

James climbs through, offers his hand, and Sirius takes it with a grin, cigarette between his teeth. They settle together on the roof, shoulder to shoulder, the Quidditch pitch glistening in low lanterns and whispers of the moon. So familiar, this moment, yet it drifts between them with the weight of everything and nothing. Sirius lights up his cigarette, shoulders relaxed, “Forgot how quiet things get when there’s nothing going on.”

James studies his profile, quiet. There’s an incredibly tiny mole under Sirius’ left eye. He’s kissed that same mole, numerous times with Sirius under him, above him. Still, no words leave his lips. Perfection, he thinks. Gideon was right.

Lily was great, just as perfect, but justice on her looked differently than justice on Sirius. She wanted changed behavior, Sirius wanted reasoning and how he’d do better even if it was soaked in cruelty. 

Sirius looks at him, cigarette bobbing between his lips, eyebrow arched, but the start of a perfect smile is there, twitching his jaw like it always does. James takes the cigarette and flicks it away. Sirius squawks, alarmed, moving to chastise him when James seals their mouths together.

There is brief tension, Sirius’ eyes darting erratically across his face, then he melts, eyes fluttering closed, hands opening and closing in his lap. James grasps his wrist, tugging him closer, and the quiet hesitation seems to break like glass. Sirius’ arms loop around his neck, back hitting stone when James presses him down. It feels like their first, awkward time during second year, the times after that hidden in broom closets, behind the curtains of James’ bed, but unlike before, Sirius stops, a hand to James’ shoulder, eyes shimmering like stars.

Sirius laughs quietly, “Ah. You’re drunk-” 

“I’m not.” James whispers.

Sirius swallows, studying James’ face. He asks, “Lily?”

“Irrelevant. We should date.” James replies, firm. “I’m going to marry you.”

Sirius’ face goes scarlet. His laugh is weak. “I-Uh, what?”

“I’ll marry you.” James repeats, harder this time.

Sirius’ eyes water, “You don’t- Don’t do that.”

“Haven’t I already?” James asks. He cups Sirius’ face, tucked between his legs. “Haven’t you already given me everything?”

“Not to guilt you into-”

“It’s not guilt.” James hisses furiously. “It’s fact. You and me, forever, always. Your person. My dog.”

Sirius’ breath hitches. His face twitches then hardens, a snarl between his teeth, “I don’t need your goddamn pity, Potter-”

“I love you.” James interrupts desperately, and Sirius’ expression cracks open like a supernova, eyes brimming and brimming with tears.

His laugh is bitter, watery, and terrible. “No one loves me. I’m a bartering chip.”

“Not to me.” James says, wiping away a few fallen tears. He presses their foreheads together, gritting his teeth, and admits, “I’ve been a fucking idiot.” The following laugh is equally bitter. “I just… don’t think I’m worthy of you.”

Sirius balks, outraged, “How could you say that-”

“I’m just a Potter, Pads.” James’ breath hitches.

Sirius wraps him tight in his arms, “No. No. Y-You’re perfect. My personal sun.”

James sags into him, rock and sandstone digging into his arms, but he doesn’t care. His voice is nearly ferocious, “You won’t marry anyone but me.”

Sirius shivers against him. He weakly asks, “Lily?”

“Irrelevant.” 

Sirius breathes, trembling. “Jay. Prongs. You don’t-”

James kisses him. He loses himself in the feeling of Sirius’ mouth, his tongue, nails dragging along the soft fabric of his sweater. 

Sirius breathes against him, “You’ve wanted her for so long.”

“You had a crush on Gilderoy-”

Sirius slaps a hand over his mouth, cheeks pink, but he laughs, “Didn’t everyone? Handsome guy before his mouth opens.”

James grunts, affronted, “I didn’t-”

“Because you’re straight.” Sirius laughs louder, but the light in his eyes seems to die. “Ah. You’re-”

“Guess I’m fucking bisexual,” James deadpans. He slumps on Sirius, muttering, “I had a crush on Shacklebolt-”

“Kingsley?!” Sirius sqwawks.

James hushes him, face hot. “Stop-”

Sirius cackles, delighted. “Holy shit. You like your men like you? Tall, dark, and handsome? Oh. Prongs. You’re still a bit short, however-”

“I am 5’7-” James scowls then beams, “You think I’m handsome?”

“Oh, fuck off, Potter.” Sirius groans.

“No. No.” James laughs, grin wide. “Tell me I’m handsome.”

“Have I not?” Sirius asks, exasperated, lost. His brow furrows, then his entire face goes ruby red, embarassed. He glares, grasps James’ shoulders, and shakes, “I’m still the better looking-”

“Merlin, you are.” James replies dreamily. He laughs shortly after, causing Sirius to laugh in turn, and while James isn’t naive enough to think relationships were easy, Sirius always made it feel fluid. They’d argue often, stew, but it wasn’t to the point where one of them always gave. Sirius would concede when that vibrant temper of his made it’s face known and James learned how to bend his pride when he was wrong.

“Where did you go?” Sirius taps him on the forehead.

“I’m sorry.” James murmurs. “I really have been an idiot.”

“I didn’t mind the experience.” Sirius waggles his eyebrows but his smile goes tight. 

“You’re not just an experience.” James swallows hard. “Not to me.”

Sirius’ face softens. He grins, “We can divorce when you’ve found your right mind again.”

“You’ll have me?” James blurts out. After… After my mistake- He frowns, expression feeling thunderous, “Di…Divorce? You-”

“Dumbass.” Sirius barks out a laugh. He drags James down, arms tight around his waist and shoulders. His breath hitches, “I’ve wanted you since we met. I… Even I’m not selfish enough to keep you caged.”

James noses Sirius’ ear, inhaling the subtle fragrance of his conditioner, the dark musk of his cologne, and sags. He whispers, admits, “I am.”

Sirius shivers. “Then I suppose you need to owl your father, Heir Potter.”

“I suppose I do.” James laughs. He gathers Sirius’ face between his palms.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Sirius lifts up to kiss him.